Free Sea Thrillers 4-Book Collection by Alistair MacLean

were you,’ Patterson said.
    â€˜The men have got to, haven’t they?’
    Chief Radio Officer Spenser was lying on the deck but he was no longer recognizable as such. He was just an amorphous mass of bone and flesh and torn, blood-saturated clothing: had it not been for the clothing it could have been the shattered remnants of any animal lying there. When McKinnon looked away Patterson could see that some colour had drained from the deeply-tanned face.
    â€˜The first bomb must have gone off directly beneath him,’ the Bo’sun said. ‘God, I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ll attend to him myself. Third Officer Batesman. I know he was the officer of the watch. Any idea where he is, sir?’
    â€˜In the chart room. I don’t advise you to go there either.’
    Batesman was recognizable but only just. He was still on his. chair, half-leaning, half-lying onthe table, what was left of his head pillowed on a blood-stained chart. McKinnon returned to the bridge.
    â€˜I don’t suppose it will be any comfort to their relatives to know that they died without knowing. I’ll fix him up myself, too. I couldn’t ask the men.’ He looked ahead through the totally shattered windscreens. At least, he thought, they wouldn’t be needing a Kent clear-view screen any more. ‘Wind’s backing to the east,’ he said absently. ‘Bound to bring more snow. At least it might help to hide us from the wolves – if there are any wolves around.’
    â€˜You think, perhaps, they might come back to finish us off?’ The Chief was shivering violently but that was only because he was accustomed to the warmth of the engine-room: the temperature on the bridge was about 6°F – twenty-six degrees of frost – and the wind held steady at twenty knots.
    â€˜Who can be sure, sir? But I really don’t think so. Even one of those Heinkel torpedo-bombers could have finished us off if they had had a mind to. Come to that, the Condor could have done the same thing.’
    â€˜It did pretty well as it was, if you ask me.’
    â€˜Not nearly as well as it could have done. I know that a Condor normally carries 250-kilo bombs – that’s about 550 lbs. A stick of those bombs – say three or four – would have sent us to the bottom. Even two might have been enough – they’d havecertainly blown the superstructure out of existence, not just crippled it.’
    â€˜The Royal Navy again, is that it, Bo’sun?’
    â€˜I know explosives, sir. Those bombs couldn’t have been any more than fifty kilos each. Don’t you think, sir, that we might have some interesting questions to ask that Condor captain when he regains consciousness?’
    â€˜In the hope of getting some interesting answers, is that it? Including the answer to the question why he bombed a hospital ship in the first place.’
    â€˜Well, yes, perhaps.’
    â€˜What do you mean – perhaps?’
    â€˜There’s just a chance – a faint one, I admit – that he didn’t know he was bombing a hospital ship.’
    â€˜Don’t be ridiculous, Bo’sun. Of course he knew he was attacking a hospital ship. How big does a red cross have to be before you see it?’
    â€˜I’m not trying to make any excuses for him, sir.’ There was a touch of asperity in McKinnon’s voice and Patterson frowned, not at the Bo’sun but because it was most unlike the Bo’sun to adopt such a tone without reason. ‘It was still only half-dawn, sir. Looking down, things look much darker than they do at sea level. You’ve only got to go up to a crow’s nest to appreciate that.’ As Patterson had never been in a crow’s nest in his life he probably fell ill-equipped to comment on the Bo’sun’s observation. ‘As he was approachingfrom dead astern he couldn’t possibly have seen the markings on the